by Limey Lady
So what was she waiting for?
Keeping intimate eye contact with Madhu, Angie moved her hand on the horse. In her imagination her hand was moving on a man’s cock . . . or maybe on Sarah-Jayne’s.
No, in her imagination it was Madhu’s hand, moving on her cock.
In her imagination she really did have had a cock.
And better by far, the most beautiful girl in the universe was tossing her off.
Needless to report, Angie didn’t know what a man experienced when he jerked. She knew what a girl experienced when she jilled, though. And she knew that wasn’t anything like the experience she felt right now.
This was incredible, titanic . . . better than best. She moaned as her hand gradually accelerated of its own accord. Faster and faster, it went.
Was this what a guy felt like? Was she feeling new sensations that might be mannish? Or was it just a new sort of womanly sensation?
‘Oh my,’ said Madhu,’ you seem so into it.’
Angie came.
‘Do it again,’ Madhu prompted.
So Angie did.
Then, eyes dancing wilder than ever, Madhu leant close.
‘Let me,’ she breathed. ‘Please Angie, let me.’
*****
Madhu’s blow job was exquisite. It produced a whole host of new sensations. Sometimes she used a hand as well as her mouth, other times she used only her tongue . . . or only her lips. Angie blanked her mind and focused on feel.
Good decision! The more Madhu did, the less Angie reckoned she’d had merely one boyfriend.
In fact she must have had swarms to be as skilful as that.
Or was it the sex toy, amplifying everything?
Angie neither knew nor cared. Whenever Madhu moved the horse by even a millimetre it resulted in the pony brushing her G-spot . . . and in the most delightful way.
Felicity had been right: the experience was to die for.
And if an orgasm was “the little death” she must have died a zillion times.
‘Stick me with it,’ Madhu said eventually. ‘Come on, you know you can keep it in. And you know that you want to. Make me happy.’
‘Madhu . . .’
‘Don’t dither, just do it.’
No way could Angie refuse. ‘Any time you want to stop, tell me,’ she said, recalling her earlier advice.
‘I won’t want to stop,’ Madhu countered. ‘Stick me with it.’
She was on her back again, legs open and wetter than ever. Angie eased herself aboard, supporting her weight on her elbows. Madhu was correct: she could keep the toy in place and yes, she really, really wanted to.
Madhu’s hand took hold of the horse, rubbing it along her slit, causing yet another flurry of new sensations deep inside Angie. Angie had intended to enter her slowly, to stimulate those squillions of nerve endings up at the mouth of her vagina, but Madhu had other ideas. Steering Angie with a not-so-innocent hand, she achieved entry then thrust up at her powerfully.
Suddenly Angie was all the way in and their groins were touching. Her body began to move and her new lover moved with it, falling immediately in step.
Omigod, wasn’t that something else! Madhu’s timing was excellent; she matched every withdrawal and thrust perfectly. The room was filled with the liquid sounds of sex and wet groins clapping as they met . . . again and again and again.
And the latest new sensations! The pony was working its magic within and those ridges on the saddle had come into play without. Angie came virtually at once but didn’t miss a stroke.
‘Yes, yes, yes,’ Madhu cried.
At first she’d dug her feet into the mattress, adding power to her counterthrusts. Now she wrapped her legs around Angie and gripped her as if she’d never let go. And still she matched Angie’s movements to perfection.
‘Yes, yes, yes,’ she yelled . . . and came twice in quick succession.
The expression on Madhu’s face set Angie off again. Then she withdrew altogether.
‘Get on all fours,’ she said.
Madhu complied and, kneeling behind her, Angie slid her horse up and down the cleft between her sexy buns. She could see Madhu’s puckered anus but wasn’t tempted. Well, not much. Pretending she’d forgotten about the free lube Felicity had given her, she aimed again for some pussy.
Direct hit! This time she did go in in increments. This time she did tease nerve endings. And she also teased herself. Bizarrely, those raised ridges were now more noticeable than the pony. Her engorged “you-know-where” was buzzing. It felt as if fifty thousand volts were flowing through it.
Maybe it was the new angle but the horse seemed to sink in even deeper this way. Angie resumed, using the same rhythm as before. Madhu responded by moving her lower body in time, bucking back to meet her, still matching her to perfection.
‘Yes, yes, yes,’ Madhu yelled.
They came together after maybe five minutes, and again perhaps a minute later. Then, after at least half an hour, Madhu erupted quite spectacularly.
‘My turn,’ she gasped. ‘Pretty please, Angie. Let it be my turn.’
Chapter Eight
Angie was a firm believer in equality, particularly amongst females. She could have cheerfully fucked Madhu forever but, once asked to change roles, she was obliged to say yes.
And it was fun to watch Madhu pressing the pony into herself and almost howling with pleasure.
‘Go for it girl,’ she said. ‘Masturbate for me, and then I’ll suck you.’
So that’s what happened. Following the same routine as Angie’s, Madhu jerked herself off twice. Then Angie took over, using fingers, mouth, lips and tongue, going at her for ages, making her die a zillion tiny deaths.
Being fucked by Madhu was great, too. And it felt somehow different to anything before it. Maybe that was because Angie knew what her lover was experiencing. Maybe that knowledge was bonding them, making the act extra-special.
Maybe they weren’t fucking; maybe they were soppily making love!
‘Get on all fours,’ Madhu finally commanded.
Before Angie could comply there was a sharp rap on the door.
‘Crap,’ she muttered, ‘it’s the Gestapo.’
She put a finger to her lips, warning Madhu to keep silent. Madhu nodded and said nothing.
More knocks on the door. Whoever it was wasn’t just going to go away. Angie got off the bed, looking for something to wear. She didn’t do dressing gowns or nighties so that meant jeans and a T. But that annoying knocking was getting louder and more frequent.
And her clothes were scattered hither and thither.
Cursing under her breath, she unlocked the door, opening it an inch or two and using it to screen her naked ass.
Putting her head in the gap, she said, ‘What?’
Her visitor wasn’t the Gestapo after all; it was Helen from 445, across the corridor.
‘You’re making a heck of a noise,’ Helen said, grinning, ‘sounds like you’re having fun.’
Double crap! Angie had forgotten all about keeping the noise down. She’d probably been even more rowdy than Madhu.
‘It’s my TV,’ she ad-libbed.
‘Is it bollocks,’ Helen replied.
Even with only one ear in the corridor Angie could hear the everyday sounds of the hall: slamming of doors; loud pop music; another football commentary . . . Manchester United scoring a fifth goal . . .
‘I’m surprised you can hear anything over all that,’ she said, trying to smile. ‘But don’t call the cops; I’ll turn it off, never mind down.’
Helen wasn’t so easily got rid of. She pushed at the door. ‘Let me see what you’re watching. I’ll bet it’s a blue movie.’
Angie probably outweighed Helen by three stones and was much stronger. But the door felt sharp on her bare toes and she shifted back a fraction. Quick as a flash, Helen was in the room.
‘Oh my,’ she said, staring at Madhu.
Madhu was still on her knees on the bed. The horse stood proudly
out of her, pointing up and beyond her tummy button.
‘Hello Helen,’ she said coyly, ‘fancy seeing you here.’
Helen shut the door with her behind and looked from Madhu to Angie and back.
‘So you were having fun,’ she said, ‘lots and lots of fun. The shy little mouse fucking the big fearsome Amazonian; that’s a bit of a turn-up, isn’t it?’
‘What happens now?’ Angie glared at the intruder. ‘Are you going to snitch?’
‘Not me,’ Helen laughed. ‘I’m into fucking in all its forms.’
Angie supposed that was true. She must have seen Helen out and about with at least three different guys over the last week or so. And she’d seen her arriving home “the morning after” a couple of times as well.
‘Okay, she said, trying not to sound reluctant, ‘thanks for being open-minded. We really will turn down the volume.’
‘Open-minded,’ Helen echoed. ‘Yep, that’s me all right.’
She was unfastening her blouse as she spoke.
Angie and Madhu exchanged glances. Angie hadn’t picked up any signals from Helen until now.
‘I’m aroused,’ said Helen, down to her jeans and bra. ‘I think we should all be open-minded together. And I think we should start by seeing what Madhu can do for me with her toy.’
Angie was scandalized. ‘Madhu’s innocent,’ she objected.
Helen laughed. ‘She doesn’t look very fucking innocent. She looks hotter than Sharon Stone.’
There was truth in that but Angie felt the urge to protect the girl. Hell, she’d vowed to look out for her.
‘Madhu,’ she said, ‘maybe it’s time to go back to your room. I’ll come to some . . . some arrangement with Helen.’
Helen’s bra was off by then. She was unfastening her jeans.
And Madhu was licking her lips as she watched her.
‘Don’t worry about me, Angie,’ she said. ‘I’ll come to an arrangement too. Besides,’ she added with a wide grin, ‘I won’t know what I can do for Helen until I’ve tried, will I?’
###
Author’s Note: Thank you for reading Angie’s continuing adventures.
More of her university exploits will follow very soon in “Ruby Tuesday”. Hmmm, whatever will that be about!
LL
Other books by LimeyLady
Heather’s Busy Week Pt. 01
Heather’s Busy Week Pt. 02
Heather’s Busy Week Pt. 03
Heather’s Busy Week Pt. 04
Heather’s Busy Week Pt. 05
Heather’s Busy Week Pt. 06
Heather’s Busy Week Pt. 07
New Beginnings
New Beginnings Advance
New Beginnings Falter
New Beginnings Revive
New Beginnings Conclude
Dangerous Dealings
No Holds Barred in London
No Holds Barred in Belfast
No Holds Barred in Boston
No Holds Barred in Munich
Two Sides to Every Story
Unconsecrated Ground
Heather Falls in Love Part One
Heather Falls in Love Part Two
Heather Falls in Love Part Three
Sammy Jo Has a Big Night Out
Sammy Jo Has Another Big Night Out
Sammy Jo Tries Team Building
Heather’s Hectic Weekend Part One
Heather’s Hectic Weekend Part Two
Heather’s Hectic Weekend Part Three
Heather’s Hectic Weekend Part Four
Davina
Davina Again
Davina Does Christmas
Davina Does Easter
Davina Does Older Women
Davina Does Scotland
Best Served Cold
Bedding the Boss
Daddy’s Girl
Short and Sweet
Re-Bedding the Boss
Angie Baby
Art For Art’s Sake
Another One Bites the Dust
Three Times a Lady
Since You’ve Been Gone
Tonight’s the Night
